


Twelve Days

by JQ37



Category: She Loves Me - Bock/Harnick/Masteroff
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 15:44:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16856815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JQ37/pseuds/JQ37
Summary: Summary: In which Amalia comes to a logical conclusion several scenes earlier and decides to have some fun with it (OR The One Where Amalia Finds Out).





	Twelve Days

_Twelve Days_

It’s not that he didn’t tell her right away. Because she can admit that, tactically speaking, telling her right away would have been a terrible idea. She would have yelled and then he probably would have yelled. It wouldn’t have ended well.  

And it’s not that it’s Georg. 

Alright, it’s a little bit the fact that it’s Georg, but not in that she can’t stand the thought of him being Dear Friend. In fact, with some time to think about it, she’s significantly softened to the idea.

It’s more that her immediate instinct with Georg has always been to mess with him and, in her defense, it’s more like turnabout in this case.

Because (and this is the main thing)  _he started it_.

She puts it together the day she comes back to work and she finds that her reaction is curiously mild because she’s already come to terms with the fact that she likes him and, honestly, mislabeled passion mixed with stubbornness makes more sense than hating an otherwise perfectly nice man for no real reason.

She’s wondering about the best way to bring it up, when she remembers his comments about Dear Friend–post-ice cream, pre-extremely familiar comment on Anna Karenina.

Because, as willing as she’d been to accept those descriptions, they in no way describe Georg. Fat and bald indeed, she thought, picturing his dark locks and lanky build. She’d been at the end of her rope and what did he do? Tease her! Well, bring her ice cream, apologize, and  _then_ tease her, but that didn’t let him off the hook!

_Tomorrow_ , she thinks, _he is going to get such a–_

And then she stops.

Actually, no.

She  _could_ talk to Georg. Tell him that she knows. Have an earnest and heartfelt conversation. After the day they’ve just had, she’s sure he’d be receptive.

_Or._

Or, she could not tell him and do a little teasing of her own.

Option A, of course, is the mature, adult thing to do.

But Option B sounds like much more fun.

_Eleven Days_

He’s been grinning like an idiot all day and he knows it , but he doesn’t care. If anything, it’s making him a better salesman. He’s gotten several comments from customers about how especially friendly he’s been. Really he should have tried being in love with Amalia ages ago because, so far, it’s been all positives.

Amalia’s in the back on her lunch break and there’s a lull in customers so he pops back to check on her. He finds her, open book in one hand, sandwich frozen midway to her mouth as she stares at the page with rapt attention. Mentally, he congratulates himself on his choice of book to lend her. If she couldn’t even wait until after work to start it, he’d surely picked a winner.

When he clears his throat, she jumps slightly, then relaxes when he realizes that it’s him.

“Mr. Nowack,” she says, smiling warmly.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Ms. Balash.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” She carefully sticks a scrap of receipt in the page to mark her place. “I really shouldn’t be reading at work anyhow.”

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

She grins conspiratorially. Then she looks around to make sure they’re alone and motions for him to sit down next to her.

“What is it Ama–what is it Ms. Balash?”

She goes on like she didn’t notice his little slip up. “This is usually the sort of thing I would tell Ilona, but she’s busy with own romantic adventures right now and I suppose you’re already involved here.”

“Am I?” he says, doing his best to keep his voice even. He was wondering if he might be able to steer the conversation in that direction. For her to bring it up on her own is enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“I don’t think we have much left in the way of boundaries after the other night. Do you?”

“I guess not,” he says with a chuckle. It certainly had been an interesting first visit to a woman’s apartment. “Does this have to do with the man you’ve been corresponding with?”

“In a way, yes.” And she’s fidgeting and alternating between eye contact and looking at the table. It’s amazing to Georg that this is the same woman who’s been raining fire and brimstone onto his head for months. How can his work nemesis and this charming, nervous woman be the same person. It doesn’t seem possible.

“I was on the way to the post office to send a letter,” she says.

“To Dear Friend?”

“Yes, yes,” she says, with an odd air of impatience. It’s very unlike their previous conversation about him. “And, on the way there, I…well, I guess the best way to put it would be to say that I met someone.”

Georg’s brow furrows. “You met someone? Like, you ran into someone you knew?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Not like that. I  _met_ someone. A man.”

She says more words after that–he knows she must because he can see her mouth moving–but he doesn’t hear any of them. She met a…how could she…of course she is very…but so soon? And _right now?_

“I’m sorry,” he cuts in. “I think I missed something. I thought you were in love with Dear Friend.”

She makes a face. “You know, I thought I was but, now, I’m not so sure. He did stand me up at the cafe the other day.”

“But he had business!” he says, nearly tripping over his words coming to the defense of Amalia’s penpal and himself at the same time.

“True,” she says, stopping to consider that. “But he did lie to me about his age,” she points out. “You saw him yourself.”

He wants to hit himself. He just had to mess with her, didn’t he? He couldn’t have just left her alone to eat her ice cream without needling her immediately? Was that really so hard?

“Well yes,” he says, “but I thought you didn’t care about that.”

“No, not really. But the more I think about it, the more the lying part bothers me. I mean, if he lied about that, who knows what else he lied about? What else could he be not telling me?”

Georg doesn’t even have the words to respond to that. Which is fine because Amalia has more to say.

“And the man I met?” She ticks off on her fingers. “Tall, handsome, well-read, kind. It’s a wonder he’s not already spoken for.”

Every adjective hits him like a knife to the gut. It’s one thing to have to compete with his on-paper persona. But for there to be another man–and an extremely eligible one at that–is not something he anticipated.

In his internal panic, she’s started talking again and, when he tunes back in, she’s saying, “It’s a pre-Christmas miracle. Oh Mr. Nowack, isn’t this wonderful?”

“Wonderful. Yeah,” he says absently as he gets up. “Ms. Balash, I need to go. I have…ah…I need to…”

“See to the customers?” she suggests.

“Right, yes. That.” He very nearly walks into the doorframe in his haste to exit the room. He has to talk to Ladislav. He’s the only other person who knows the full story.       

Ladislav starts to protest as Georg drags him outside but Georg closes the door before he can get any words out.

“Georg,” he complains, “the place is packed.”

“I’m in charge while Mr. Maraczek is away. You won’t get in trouble.”

“But Ms. Ritter and Arpad–”

“Can handle themselves for a few minutes. Ladislav, this is important. It’s about Amalia.” His use of her first name earns him Ladislav’s full attention.

“What about her?”

In his panic, he hasn’t thought of the best way to put it. “She…she…” And maybe it’s the freezing winter air or the way Ladislav is staring at him like he’s seriously worried about his mental well-being, but he has a sudden moment of clarity and something occurs to him. Maybe Ladislav isn’t the only other person who knows the full story.

“Oh!”

“Oh?” Ladislav asks.

“She knows!”

“Knows what?”

He grabs Ladislav’s shoulder. “That I’m Dear Friend. She knows!”

Ladislav cocks his head in confusion. “Of course she does. You told her, didn’t you?”

Georg shakes his head, a little sheepishly. “Actually, I didn’t.”

“Then what did you talk about at the cafe?”

“Umm, I mainly argued with her.”

“Georg!”

“BUT it doesn’t matter. She figured it out! She didn’t meet someone. She’s messing with me because I messed with her.”

“So, you know and she knows. Great. Talk to her.”

“Although…”

“Georg,” he says in a warning tone.

“Listen.” He can feel the gears in his head beginning to turn. “She knows but she doesn’t know that I know that she knows.”

Ladislav groans.

“Oh, is she going to get it. Ladislav, don’t say anything to her, alright?”

“Georg–” he tries again, but Georg is already back inside.

_Eight Days_

Unexpected side effect of deciding she likes Mr. Nowack? Amalia has never found torturing him this entertaining. Before, it had just been something she’d done in defense–like an autoimmune response. This is something different entirely.

She’s spent the entire weekend crafting lines to drop casually and send him into a tailspin. If she’d been able to send him running out of the room with only a few words on Friday, she can’t imagine what she’ll be able to do to him today.

Of course, there’s always the possibility that he comes clean and ends his torture prematurely.

She’s not sure what she’s hoping for more: For him to cave so they can finally have their overdue conversation or for him to stew silently for another day while she toys with him.

Georg is already setting up shop when she arrives at work. She grins at him as she removes her coat. “Good morning Mr. Nowack.”

“Good morning Ms. Balash. Ah, Ms. Balash, can I ask you something?”

Is he already giving up the game? Too bad. She’d worked hard on some of those lines too. “What is it Mr. Nowack?”

“You know, I was thinking, about what you told me the other day. About the man you met on the way to the post office and I was thinking…do you think you could introduce me to him.”

“What?” says Amalia, flatly.

“Could you introduce me to him,” he repeats. “I’d really appreciate it.”

“You…you want to meet him?” This was not a part of the plan. Not at all.

“Of course. He seems like a fine man and someone I’d like to get to know. You said he enjoyed Tolstoy, Stevenson, Mann. You know I do too and it’s so hard to find someone who shares those interests. I would love to meet your–say, what did you say his name was again?”

How could she have forgotten to come up with a name? It’s ridiculous. She came up with a list of this imaginary man’s top five authors but not a name?  _Really Amalia?_  she scolds herself.

“His name is…”

And she’s never been more relieved to see Ilona in her life. “Ilona!” she says as the woman walks in. “Here, let me get your coat. I was putting mine away anyway.” She practically rips Ilona’s coat from her body and sprints out of the room. A few minutes later, Ilona finds her in the back room and she cuts straight to the chase.   

“What’s wrong, Amalia?”

“Nothing,” she says tightly. Which isn’t strictly true but it’s nothing she hasn’t brought upon herself so she doesn’t feel right bothering Ilona with it. It’s not enough to stop her friend’s concern.

“No, something’s wrong. I can feel it. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you have a man I can borrow.”

“I have a man you can borrow.”

Amalia snorts. “Very funny Ilona.”

“I’m being serious. You remember Paul. From the library? We’re getting very serious.” Amalia isn’t sure how serious they could have possibly gotten in the past six days but she doesn’t say that. From what Ilona’s told her, Paul seems a nice change from her usual choice in men.

“Don’t you want to know what I need a man for before you volunteer him?”

Ilona shrugs. “It’s you Amalia. What scandalous thing could you possibly need him for?”

She tells her and Ilona positively lights up.

“That  _is_ scandalous. I love it! We’re in.”

Amalia laughs. “Shouldn’t you ask Paul before you offer him up as part of my revenge plan?”

Ilona waves her off. “He’ll love it. This is just like something out of those books the two of you love so much. Romance. Miscommunication. Secrets. Amalia, where are you going?”

“Be right back,” she tells Ilona, because the thought has just occurred to her: She and Paul aren’t the only ones who have read those books. She pokes her head out the door of the stockroom and sees that Mr. Sipos has arrived. Excellent. She may not be able to ask Georg anything directly, but she’s overheard Georg talking to Mr. Sipos about private matters. Maybe Georg has talked to him about this too.

She makes sure that Georg is busy at his station before cornering Mr. Sipos and speaking in a whisper.

“What did Georg tell you?” she demands.

“What–” he starts, momentarily bewildered but she shushes him. She doesn’t want Georg to overhear them.

“You know what I mean. Does he know that I know?”

What she’s asking finally seems to click in his head and his face goes slack with relief. “Oh good, you know. I  _told_ him to tell you. I hate keeping secrets. Now you can just talk it out.”

“We could. Or…”

“Or?” he echoes, warily.

“We never had this conversation,” she says, disappearing before Ladislav can get another word in.

When she returns to the back room, she turns to Ilona. “You’re sure Paul will be OK with this?”

“He’ll love it,” Ilona repeats. “And Georg has never met him. It’ll be perfect.”

“Then I have a plan.”

_Seven Days_

After spending all of Monday avoiding him, Amalia tells Georg on Tuesday that she would be  _delighted_ to introduce him to her new friend, Paul, right after work on the 24th. When he tells Ladislav, he doesn’t seem as surprised as he should be.

“Wait a second,” says Georg. “Does she know that I know that she knows that I know?”

Ladislav throws his hands up. “Do I look like I followed any of that?”

“Oh, it is on now.”

Ladislav doesn’t even bother argue.  

_Three Days_

Amalia meets her would-be boyfriend for the first time two days before she’s supposed to introduce him to Georg, and she really has to applaud Ilona on her choice. By sheer coincidence, he fits Amalia’s description of him–he’s tall and handsome, he’s at the library so often that it’s amazing that they haven’t run into each other already, and the fact that he’s willing to help with this just because Ilona asked shows that he’s kind.    

Willing might not be the best word. He’s downright eager.

“So we met on the way to the post office. Is there anything else I should know? Do I need a code name? Do I need a disguise?”

Ilona laughs. “He’s never met you, Paul. And only Amalia knows your name.”

He seems almost disappointed so Amalia hastens to add, “Thank you for helping with this, really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t said yes.”

“I  _told_ you he’d say yes,” says Ilona, punctuating the statement with a proud kiss on his cheek.

“Anything for love,” says Paul. “You do love him, right? What am I saying? Of course you do. You wouldn’t put this much work into this plan if you didn’t, right?

And it occurs to Amalia that, beyond her initial decision that she didn’t hate Georg, she hasn’t really thought about it in those terms. “Like”, sure but love?

She thinks for a moment.

“I have have to make a call.”

_One Day_

Despite the absolute insanity of the Christmas Eve shopping stampede, Georg remains aggressively cheerful and completely unshakable all day.

Or, at least, all day until the last customer leaves and everyone finally has the chance to take a breath. That’s when Amalia shoves a phone into his hand saying, “Mr. Nowack, I have to run to the back and clean up before Paul gets here. Can you confirm this reservation for me?” and running off before he can say anything.

He puts the phone up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Yes, hello,” says a slightly annoyed male voice. “That’s a reservation for two at the Cafe Imperial tonight, yes?”

A Christmas Eve reservation at the Cafe Imperial? How did she swing that? Could she swing that as part of a joke? He’s able to assure himself that yes, yes Amalia could and would go to those lengths to gain the upper hand in this, and confidently affirm the reservation. It’s a bluff. It’s got to be.

And then he sees Paul and he’s not so sure.

Paul matches Amalia’s description to the letter, he’s charming as he introduces himself to Arpad and Sipos, he has opinions on The Magic Mountain all queued up for Georg–apparently on Amalia’s request, and Georg can’t be sure but he looks like he may be a smidge taller than him which annoys him more than it should.

But he’s doing a pretty good job at playing cool until Amalia emerges from the back, exclaims “Paul!” and runs up to hug the man. When she pulls back she says, “Oh good, you’ve met Paul. Georg has been very excited to meet you. Haven’t you, Georg?”

“You could say that,” mutters Georg indistinctly.

“Say, what do you do for a living?” asks Arpad, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding around him.

“I’m an optometrist. An eye doctor.”     

Arpad turns to Ilona. “Didn’t you say that the man you met at the library was an optometrist too? Isn’t that funny? What are the chances?”

What are the chances? And, now that he thinks about it, Paul never did introduce himself to Ilona, did he? And Amalia did say that Ilona was having romantic adventures of her own.

Georg smirks. “Yes. What are the chances?”

Amalia holds his stare, defiant, until the door’s bell tinkles and in walks Mr. Maraczek, arm in a sling and carrying a bottle of champagne.

“Mr. Maraczek!” says Amalia, along with the rest of the staff in shock.  

“Where else would I be on Christmas Eve?” he says as she goes to hug him, standoff momentarily forgotten.

“Mr. Maraczek!” Ilona echoes, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “And this is Paul: Amalia’s friend. They have dinner reservations and they really should be going.”

“I’m sure they have the time for a quick drink. Arpad, can you get seven cups?”

Arpad runs to the back to fetch the cups and Ilona works on opening the bottle. After a few seconds, she calls over Amalia. “Can you help me with this? I’m having a little trouble.”

Ilona hasn’t had trouble opening a bottle of champagne in her life so Amalia is not at all surprise when Ilona glances over to see if Georg is watching them (he isn’t, he’s showing off the several meters long receipt they’ve racked up) and says, “He knows. I must have mentioned Paul’s job to Arpad and forgot about it.”

“It’s alright. Maybe we can…” But Amalia doesn’t know how to end that sentence. This was her master stroke. She’s out of options…besides coming clean of course. Would that really be so bad?

“I have a Plan B,” says Ilona.

Oh thank God. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, she yells, “Paul! Would you come over here and help us?”

Georg is a little closer. “Here, I can–”

“No, no. I’m sure Paul would love to help. Right Paul?”

“Of course,” he says, though his face shows that he can sense that there’s an ulterior motive to the request. He’s known Ilona for barely a week but he can tell when she’s scheming. Georg has known her for considerably longer than that. There’s an angle here. What is it?

Amalia hands Paul the bottle that she hasn’t even attempted to open and–

“Oh, will you look at that?”

Look at what? Amalia follows Ilona’s line of sight to just above their heads and–Oh, she can’t be serious.  

“Oh, hey,” says Arpad, as he returns with the cups. “You two are under the mistletoe!”

She is serious, Amalia realizes and she sees the wild glint in her friend’s eye.  _Ilona!_  she wants to yell.  _He’s taken. By **you.**_  But, she reasons, Ilona must be OK with it if she’s the one who orchestrated it.

For his part, Paul looks taken aback for about a second. Then, he glances at Ilona and whatever he sees must assure him that he’s in the clear because he looks back at Amalia and cocks his head slightly, the message clearly being, “I’m game if you are.”

_She won’t really do it,_  thinks Georg.

Amalia steps closer to Paul.

_She won’t._

She puts a hand on his cheek.

_She won’t._

She closes her eyes and–

“OK! OK! OK! You Win! Don’t kiss him.”

Amalia springs back from Paul, her expression a mixture of relief and triumph. “And why shouldn’t I?”

“You know why.”

She crosses her arms. “Georg.”

“OK, OK. Don’t kiss him…because he’s clearly Ilona’s optometrist friend.”

“Is that all?”

Georg steps closer to Amalia.

“Don’t kiss him because I know for a fact that you’re interested in someone else?”

A corner of her mouth quirks in amusement. “That’s closer.”

He puts a hand on her cheek.

“When did you figure it out?”

“Two days after you did, and you still haven’t said it.”

He’s standing close to her. Close enough to kiss her if she’ll let him, and he thinks that she might, but the glint in her eye isn’t wavering. If he wants this to go any further, he’s going to have to say it. She wants to hear it from him.  

And, after all this effort, why shouldn’t she?

“I’m Dear Friend.”

She leans forward and almost closes the small gap between them. Her lips are so close to brushing his that he can almost feel them.

And then she stops. Grins.

“I know.”

Her pride in her victory is so palatable that he’s not even disappointed. He almost wants to laugh. Instead, he shakes Paul’s hand. “You really had me going there. Hats off. You too, Ilona. That was a bold move.”

Ilona tosses her hair airily. “Not really. I knew you’d break first. Now you two should go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“The Cafe,” says Amalia like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I made a reservation. You just confirmed it, remember?”

“You made a real reservation?”

“Of course I did.  _Somebody_ owes me a do-over.”

“Well I’m sure that somebody feels like an idiot and would love to have dinner with you.”

And they may be staring into each others’ eyes like they’re the only two in the room but that is, of course, not the case. 

“I’m confused,” says Mr. Maraczek, turning to Arpad who looks just as confused. “What just happened?”

“It’s a long story,” says Ladislav. 

But, evidently, one with a happy ending, and no more secrets.

Hopefully. 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually posted this to my tumblr a while ago but I decided to finally crosspost it here too since I'm about to drop another SLM fic for Christmas. 
> 
> Also, you should know I always picture Paul as John Krasinski and I don't have a good explanation. 
> 
> And yes, this is just one extended Friends reference. That's the best episode of Friends. Fight me.


End file.
